


Brainstorm

by BrigidsBlest



Series: Into Thin Air [1]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 21:18:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13644636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrigidsBlest/pseuds/BrigidsBlest
Summary: A new case and the return of an old case. Or an old friend.





	1. Chapter 1

 

**April 9, 1994; Chicago**

 

        Nicole Alexander huddled a little closer to the wall, trusting the darkness in the condemned warehouse to cloak her, thrusting her arms further into the sleeves of the baggy sweatshirt she wore to warm her chill, stiff fingers. The night wind off Lake Michigan in mid-April was _cold_ , and it didn't help matters any that the temperature tonight had dipped below freezing, unseasonable even for Chicago.

        At least a dozen people were clustered together in the darkness below her; from her perch on the catwalk, she could see how sick they looked. Some sprawled on the dirty, threadbare mattresses tossed down on the floor; several sat together with a worn blanket wrapped around them, trying to pool their body heat. There were at least three women among the men, but they were so emaciated and fatigued as to be sexless, thin scarecrows with no more interest in life than the males.

        _This has got to be stopped_ , Nicole thought resolutely. _Why do people DO this to themselves?_ She could see the needle tracks on the few arms that had not been covered against the cold; they were purple and black, looking infected in the weak moonlight that spilled into the warehouse from the shattered skylights overhead.

        She bared her teeth in a silent snarl as the tall, handsome man in the expensive grey suit strutted arrogantly over to where the junkies were huddled. Two hulking, muscular men stalked silently behind him, and Nicole didn't have to see the bulges under their leather jackets to know that they were armed. _Well, of course. What their scumbucket boss carries around with him is worth a lot of money, and without protection, the junkies would certainly take it from his dead body._ The pusher smiled at them as they jumped up, approaching him fawningly, their eyes hungry and desperate.

        "Hello, my friends," the man said in a smooth, soft voice that was oily and cold despite its friendly tone. "I brought presents for you all."

        _He's doing it AGAIN!_

        "Please...here...give it to me...need it--" the cries came from a dozen demanding throats as shaking hands groped for the ampoules the man held. Nicole stayed hidden, unperturbed, as the EL train went by outside. The man in the suit--this was her third visit to the warehouse, and she had yet to learn his name--began to pass out his 'wares'. She stared down at the little vials of green liquid he was handing out. It was hardly unusual to see drug dealers with their product, or even watching them give away the first 'taste' to unsuspecting people who didn't know how easily they could get hooked. _What's bizarre,_ she reflected, _is that the asshole down there has ALREADY got all these poor jerks hooked, but he KEEPS giving his drug away for nothing!_ The junkies had already gotten out their gear and filled the hypodermics with the green liquid, sinking the needles into whatever uncollapsed veins they could find--in eye sockets, between their toes, or in tongues, penises, or breasts--and pushing the plungers home. Nicole watched as the rush overtook them one by one; their features convulsed with euphoria, and they sank back down onto the mattresses, the cold no longer a concern.

        "Watch them," the pusher said in distaste to his guards. "I hate testing new batches, especially on filth like this. If they die, you can never tell if it's from the drugs or because they were sick to begin with."

        "Yes, Mr. Wallace," the taller of the two guards said, and Wallace took the briefcase that the man held, fishing in his breast pocket for the key. Silently, Nicole wished that she had brought someone with her--a friend, the police--anyone who could save the poor wretches down below. _Or Mulder,_ she reflected.  _I wish Mulder were here. I bet he'd know what to do._

        "Save them...stop him...wish Mulder was here," moaned one of the addicts, a thin, frail girl clad in a tattered t-shirt and ragged jeans. As the muttered words sank in, Nicole reeled backward in shock.

        _My God,_ she thought numbly, _the girl read my mind!_

        One of the junkies looked up suddenly, his head tilting back as if on a pivot, and his hateful glare locked on to the catwalk where Nicole hid. "There's someone up there!" he howled, clawing at his head angrily and gnashing his teeth. "Get outta my head, you fuckin' BITCH!!!" All at once, _all_ of the addicts were staring up toward where she was hidden, whimpering and yelping like whipped dogs.

        The two guards drew their guns and Nicole bit her lower lip nervously. _I have to get out of here_ , she thought, panic spiking wildly in her. _Damn, I'm not used to these spy games!_ Wallace stood almost directly beneath her perch and she took a deep breath, then jumped over the side of the catwalk as the guards began shooting at her. She went thin before she hit the floor, grabbing for the briefcase in Wallace's hands, thinning it also as she slipped through the warehouse floor, down through the basement, the foundation, and into the cold earth. Her momentum bled off slowly and she came to a stop surrounded by hard-packed dirt, taking a second to get her bearings. _I was facing THAT way when I jumped, so if I go HERE--_ She began to move through the soil, 'swimming' toward the surface in the direction of the EL station outside the warehouse, her lungs beginning to burn as her three-minute limit approached. Yet she knew she didn't dare solidify to take a breath; underground, her atoms still intermingled with those of the earth around her, she would be killed instantly.

        Nicole broke from the surface of the ground and emerged into fresh air, barely ten feet from the EL platform. She pulled her feet free of the sidewalk and solidified, gulping in air as tears seared her eyes. She glanced around and gave a quick, silent prayer of thanks that it was after midnight; the only one around to see her materialize was a drunk sitting on a bench at the far end of the platform.

        She heard the roar of an approaching train and her grip tightened around the handle of the briefcase as the train slowed and came to a stop. She scurried into the car as soon as the doors had opened, and waited nervously for the train to take off again, certain that Wallace and his men were going to come rushing down the stairs into the station after her.

        When they did not, and when the train had pulled slowly away from the platform and up onto the raised tracks into the cold night outside, Nicole forced herself to relax. The words that the two junkies in the warehouse had spoken played over and over in her head.

         _Save them...stop him...wish Mulder was here..._

_Get outta my head, you fuckin' BITCH!_

        Her hand shook as she popped open the clasps on the briefcase and stared at the bundles of cash and the neat rack of little vials filled with green liquid inside. The fluid looked harmless enough, but she knew better. With a sign, she looked up as the train began to slow for the next station.  _No one'll be in the science lab at the University of Chicago--not at this time of night. I have time to sneak in and run a few tests before the first morning flight to D.C. leaves O'Hare in the morning._

        She rose on tired, aching feet and headed for the train doors.

* * *

 

**April 10; Washington, D.C.**

 

        Mulder watched with a faint grin as Scully finished typing up the report concerning their last case, about a number of loggers that had gone missing in the deep forest in Washington state. He knew she was disturbed every time one of their strange cases was left unsolved--or worse, when the solution was something that could not be proved by rational science.

        His phone rang and he picked it up, answering automatically. "Mulder here."

        "You look like you've gained a few pounds," came a soft, familiar voice that he had not heard in almost five weeks--nor had ever expected to hear again. "You should get thin." There was a moment's silence, and then the woman spoke again. "I'm calling from the Grant monument in Union Square. Meet me there in twenty minutes." The line went dead and Mulder stared at the receiver for a second before hanging up.

        Scully looked up from her computer terminal. "Who was that?" she asked curiously.

        "A prank call," Mulder said, glancing at his watch. It was almost noon. "I think I'm going to step out and get some lunch. Do you want me to bring something back for you? 

        "Sure," Scully replied absently, staring at her screen. "A roast beef sandwich and a salad would be fine."

        "Roast beef and salad it is," Mulder promised. He grabbed his overcoat and pulled it on, then smiled at her and marched out the door. 

        He drove to the Monument cautiously, glancing more than once into his rearview to make certain that he was not being followed. He knew that there were certain people in the Bureau who were not pleased that Nicole Alexander had escaped when he had met her five weeks ago, and their anger was only compounded by the bad press the Bureau had suffered when Agent Stone, who Mulder had been forced to shoot, was exposed as corrupt. An envelope full of photographs had been sent anonymously to Assistant Director Skinner; the pictures had recorded Stone's crime in meticulous detail.

        Mulder found a parking place and tramped across the park to the monument with a minute and a half to spare. He glanced around cautiously, but the only person he saw nearby was a heavyset, dark-haired bag lady feeding popcorn to the pigeons. He turned to glance at the Monument; it was defaced with spray paint, the steps littered with trash--a dismaying but predictable sight. He sighed and turned back around, then stepped back as the bag lady grinned at him, now no more than a few feet away.

        "Want some popcorn, Mister?" she croaked, holding out the nearly empty bag. "Gotta fatten yourself up. You look like you're getting too thin."

        Mulder's eyes widened in surprise. "Nicole?" he asked warily.

        The woman smiled brilliantly and winked, popping out one of the brown-tinted contact lenses she wore, revealing brilliant green eyes with abnormal, diamond-shaped pupils. "Hello, Agent Mulder," she said, her voice no longer a harsh croak but the soft tones he remembered. "It's good to see you again."

        Mulder took a step backward and studied her for a moment, finally able to discern her slender body underneath the mounds of baggy, thick clothes. She pulled off the wig she wore; the shoulder-length, frizzy mass of dark-brown Little Orphan Annie curls was nothing like her own light blonde hair. "Good disguise," he said at last, grinning despite himself.

        "It fooled you," she agreed pleasantly.

        "You do realize that I was told if I ever saw you again to arrest you on the spot," Mulder told her.

        "Are you going to?" Nicole asked, one eyebrow rising slightly.

        "Not until I find out why you're here," he replied calmly. She laughed.

        "Right to the point." She gazed at him for a minute and then flushed before reaching into her tattered coat, pulling out a small glass vial that contained about an ounce of translucent, pale green liquid. "This is a new designer drug that's been making the rounds in Chicago. The man who's testing it calls in Brainstorm."

        Mulder took the vial without comment and uncapped it, sniffing gingerly. The fluid had no scent that he could detect, and he recorked it, taking care not to spill a drop. "So you've been in Chicago for the last five weeks?" he asked. "Doing what?"

        "This and that," Nicole said evasively. He stared at her sternly, refusing to let her look away, and she sighed. "OK, OK. I can't exactly get a normal job, since I have no ID and had to leave school before I got my degree. So I've been using my skill to steal from the local drug dealers. I take their money and destroy their drugs. Satisfied?"

        "Not entirely," Mulder said, frowning, appalled by the dangerous path she had taken since they'd last seen each other. He cocked his head, remembering an incident he'd read about in the paper about two weeks back. "There was a fire in Chicago in a tenement on the South Side two weeks back. A little boy who was trapped in the building suddenly appeared safe in the alley below. He said he was saved by a ghost. You wouldn't have had anything to do with that, would you?"

        "Guilty as charged," Nicole said, pulling her hand away--thin--through his own. "Are you going to arrest me for that? Impersonating a ghost without a license?" She glared at him in mock anger and sighed. "The drug, Mulder. That's why I'm here. While checking out a warehouse on 103rd Street that some of the junkies use as a shooting gallery, I had a chance to observe its effects. First, a rush of euphoria in the first three to five minutes. After that, hallucinations similar to those found in LSD users. But worst of all is that the drug has a tendency to promote homicidal psychosis in anyone who's already mentally unstable. The madness doesn't happen in everyone, but if a person who's hallucinating turns suddenly violent--" she shuddered visibly. "Brainstorm is very addictive--at least ten times as addictive as crack, by the preliminary calculations I was able to make. And it has a cumulative effect that I think might interest you. After the fourth or fifth dose, it apparently interacts with the user's brain chemistry and induces telepathy." She met his astonished stare levelly. "I stole several doses when Wallace--the man testing it--came to the warehouse the last time and snuck into the science labs at the University of Chicago to run a few tests. It's similar to both LSD and PCP in chemical composition, but because it's so new, it hasn't been ruled illegal yet."

        "Telepathy," Mulder murmured, fascinated. He looked up from the vial. "How do you know?"

        "I was hiding in the warehouse last night, up on a catwalk. There was no way the junkies could have seen me or known that I was there. Yet seconds after they had shot up with the drug, one of them was mumbling the thoughts right out of my head and another sensed I was there; the others caught on instantly. The one who sensed me first actually told me to get out of his head. I left in a hurry."

        "And came here," Mulder finished.

        "Exactly," Nicole responded. "Take the sample and run your own series of tests. I had enough bio before I switched over to physics that I can run a basic pharmacology series, but you'll be able to use more sophisticated methods where you work." She turned to go and he tucked the vial into a pocket, then reached out, snagging the back of her coat.

        "Wait," he ordered. She stopped, turning around to regard him hopefully.

        "What do you want?"

        He hesitated, knowing where his duty lay, knowing he could not carry out that duty unless she _let_ him. "I'm going to have to arrest you, Ms. Alexander," he said stiffly.

        She gazed at him, hurt in her eyes, and then reality intruded.

        "Is this where you normally go for lunch, Mulder?" came Scully's voice. He spun and saw her standing fifteen feet away, her Beretta in hand, the weapon aimed directly at Nicole. "Ms. Alexander, I am Special Agent Dana Scully of the F.B.I. You are under arrest. I want you to lay down on the ground with your hands locked behind your head."

        Nicole's eyes darted from Scully to Mulder. "So much for friendship, huh?" she said softly.

        "Scully, don't--" Mulder began, but at that second, Nicole turned and ran.

        Scully swore and jammed her gun into its holster, then ran after her, with Mulder less than half a second behind. Scully, not hampered by thick clothes like Nicole was, rapidly closed the distance between them, and--less than five feet away--jumped.

        The tackle would have brought down anyone else. Nicole glanced back a fraction of an instant before Scully leaped, then went thin. Scully sailed through her and landed on the ground, and Mulder tripped over her prone form and tumbled down next to her. Nicole stopped a few yards away. "This is better than a Three Stooges movie," she snorted, then took off as Mulder and Scully scrambled to their feet.

        "I had her!" Scully insisted, glaring down at the cold mud that clung to her slacks and blazer. "I recognized her from your report, Mulder. How'd she do that?"

        "Magic?" Mulder murmured half-heartedly. He pulled the vial out of his coat pocket and gazed at it thoughtfully.

        "What's that?" Scully asked, intrigued.

        "I'm not sure," he answered her. "But I'll tell you what it's _not_." His eyes met hers over the cap of the vial. "It's **_not_** a roast beef sandwich and a salad."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully follow their lead to Chicago in search of the drug that induces telepathy.

**April 11; Chicago**

            Mulder and Scully made their way through the mazelike corridors and tunnels of O'Hare airport to finally emerge into the daylight outside. A bitter wind blasted them as they went to their rental car and loaded their luggage into the trunk.

            "I'm not so sure this is such a good idea, Mulder," Scully said, going around to the front and climbing into the passenger's seat.

            "We checked all the flights from D.C. to Chicago yesterday. Nic--Ms. Alexander wasn't on any of them," Mulder said as he slid behind the steering wheel and fastened his seat belt. "She said she'd been living in Chicago since I lost her in San Diego. We may be able to track her down--and this drug should be checked out." He pulled the vial out of his pocket and stared at it, then handed it to Scully and started the car. The vial was empty except for a thin film of green on the glass; tests run on it had confirmed most of Nicole's assertions. Only her statement that the drug caused telepathy with repeated use could not be proven; there had not been enough of the substance to run such an extensive test, and such a test would require human test subjects, anyway.

            "Then why not turn the case over to the D.E.A.?" Scully asked. He glanced at her, a cynical smile on his lips, and she nodded. "Yeah, right." Interagency rivalry between the F.B.I., the C.I.A., and the D.E.A.--between _all_ intelligence agencies--was at an all-time high recently, with the drug war in Colombia and the shoot-out in Waco. _Besides_ , Scully mused, _the D.E.A. would care nothing about the purported unusual properties of the drug, only about arresting everyone they could get their hands on and stamping out the drug's use entirely_. Mulder guided the car away from the curb and turned east onto Highway 90, which would take them directly into the heart of the city. Mulder glanced over at the vial, a distant look in his eyes as he stopped at a red light.

            Scully watched him curiously. "You really like her, don't you?" she finally asked.

            Mulder sighed and took the vial from her, tucking it back in his pocket. "Yeah, Scully, I do," he said quietly. "She didn't ask to have her father sicken and die, or for Stone to try to use her. Her strange ability wasn't something she asked for. She's just using it the only way she knows how. I don't blame her for not wanting to give herself up." He paused as the light turned green and the car surged forward. "I was angry when I realized you'd followed me to the Monument."

            "She _is_ a criminal, Mulder," Scully reminded him. "By her own admission, she _did_ rob the Naval Base."

            "Those charges are being withheld until the final evaluation of the possible Navy cover-up in the Truxtrun case," Mulder said. "Innocent until proven guilty."

            Scully sighed. "All right, Mulder. If we run into her again, I won't try to arrest her. Satisfied?"

            _"I_ sure am," came a chuckle from the back seat.

            Scully whirled as Mulder's gaze shot to the rear-view mirror. Nicole sat behind them, the shapeless rags she had been wearing replaced by jeans and an emerald-green sweater underneath a black coat that was buttoned only halfway up. She smiled as she saw the surprise in their eyes; green-tinted contact lenses concealed her own unusual eyes.

            "Where did you come from?" Scully demanded.

            "Originally? San Diego," Nicole laughed. "I returned to Chicago on the same flight you two took. I went thin and hid in the baggage compartment--and let me tell you, it's damned cold down there at 35,000 feet. Fortunately, someone's dog was down there, so I wasn't alone. When we landed, I followed you out to the parking lot, ducked into the trunk of your car, then climbed in here through the back seat." She grinned at them. "What, you thought I was just going to disappear again? Uh-uh. I just got settled back down; I'll be tied up and dragged off before I run away again. Now, follow Highway 90 down until it splits off from Highway 94, then take 94 to 103rd Street."

            They made the drive in silence, threading their way through Chicago's grimy, twisting streets until they reached the warehouse where Nicole had run from Wallace and his guards.

            "This is the place," Nicole told them. "Although they're long gone, I'm sure. There are plenty of places in the city to shoot up, and no reason to stay once they'd been discovered."

            "Yes, but they probably haven't gone far," Scully said, drawing her gun and checking it. "Stay in the car, Ms. Alexander. You wouldn't want to get hurt."

            Nicole glanced over at Mulder. "Is she kidding?" she asked him. He grinned wryly and she shook her head. "Agent Scully, I'm _much_ more likely to get hurt if I stay here. This neighborhood is overrun with muggers, rapists, purse-snatchers, and carjackers. Besides, so long as I have a second's warning, no bullet can hurt me. I think I'll take my chances inside with you two."

            Scully frowned, but chose not to waste time arguing. "Suit yourself," she said as Mulder drew his own sidearm and flicked the safety off.

            They got out of the car and approached the building. Mulder stopped in front of the door, Scully to one side, preparing to kick the door in and provide covering fire if necessary.

            "Before you two go rushing in where angels fear to tread--" Nicole began.

            "Why do I get the idea that you're not taking this very seriously?" Mulder asked, the faintest trace of a grin curving his lips up at the corners. Scully scowled at him.

            "Yes?" she asked sharply, pinning Nicole with a stern look.

            "Instead of just busting in there, I could stick my head through the door and make sure no one's waiting for us on the other side with guns ready," Nicole offered.

            Mulder frowned, but it was Scully that answered. "Even assuming that they can't shoot you, if their shots went through the door, one of us could be hit. _We_ can't--what do you call it--go thin like you can."

            Nicole shrugged. "It was just a thought," she suggested. "Never let it be said that even us hardened criminals don't try to help, Agent Scully."

            Scully scowled. "I'll keep it in mind."

            Nicole stepped back out of the way and went thin, just in case someone _was_ on the other side, ready to open fire. Scully stepped to one side to cover Mulder, and he held his gun up, then shouldered the door open with a crash. The door flew open and he leveled his weapon, but the huge, open warehouse looked deserted. Scully followed him inside, glancing around.

            "There's an office upstairs," Nicole ventured, pointing to the stairs. "I don't think they used it for anything, but there's also a door there that leads up to the roof."

            "We'd better check it out," Scully said, nodding to Mulder. He moved, his back to the wall, and paced to the stairs, taking them slowly and one at a time. Scully waved at Nicole to follow him and she jogged after him with Scully at her heels.

            The door to the office stood open, light shining in through the window, and the desk, chair, and filing cabinet that filled the small room were practically antique. Mulder jerked open each of the cabinet's drawers, but they were empty.

            Scully lowered her gun and checked the door to the roof. It opened with a creak, muddy daylight spilling down the stairs. The stairs up were littered with trash, rain puddled on the steps, but there was no sign of drugs, junkies, or Wallace.

            A heavy, squat iron safe stood against the far wall, its square door closed. Nicole gave the handle and experimental tug, but it was locked; she snorted and slipped her hand through the steel, groping around inside. Mulder's eyes gleamed as she withdrew a stoppered lab beaker full of thick, viscous, dark green ichor. "Think this is the uncut stuff?" Nicole asked curiously, holding the beaker up to the wan light.

            "Could be," Mulder said. "We can run more tests."

            "Now what?" Scully asked.

            Barely were the words out of her mouth when a shot pinged by not a foot from her head, sending up chips of plaster as it buried itself in the wall. She threw herself to her knees and Mulder ducked as Nicole stuffed the flask into the breast pocket of her coat and went thin in self-defense.

            "That's what," Nicole said, glaring down the stairs at the main warehouse. "Our friendly neighborhood goons are back, and they've brought friends." She chewed on her lower lip, counting. "There are at least a dozen men down there, all armed. We're cut off."

            "Up to the roof?" Mulder suggested as they heard footsteps on the stairs.

            "There might be a fire escape," Scully agreed. "Grab the chair; we can wedge the door shut with it."

            "You two go first," Nicole commanded. "I'll keep them busy."

            "Forget it," Scully shouted, starting up the stairs to the roof. "Mulder, send her up. We can't let a civilian get hurt!"

            "Don't be stupid!" Nicole spat. "I can't get shot, remember? You can! And I can come through the door after you bar it. If I had a gun, I could hold them off for a minute longer. Get going!"

            Mulder hesitated a second, then swore. "She's right, Scully," he said, resigned. He handed Nicole his gun. "Don't take too long!"

            "Just until they realize that if they can't shoot me, I can't shoot _them_ ," Nicole agreed through gritted teeth. The gun was still warm from his grip, but felt heavy and alien in her hand. She grimaced at it and took three steps out of the office, taking a deep breath and going thin as she did so--all except for the hand that held the pistol. _Can't thin the gun and risk having it blow up in my hand_ , she thought ruefully.

            The first gunman, halfway up the stairs to the office, stopped and ducked as she brought the gun up, pointed straight at him. He cursed and jumped over the side of the stairs rather than take a bullet at point-blank range. She had just enough time to hear the snap of bone and his scream before the others started shooting at her.

            Despite the fact that she knew the bullets couldn't hurt her, she flinched as they went through her, burying themselves in the wall behind her. The men assumed their aim was off and corrected by the fraction that should have been necessary to bring her down. They let off another few rounds, clearly puzzled, and finally one yelled, "It's some kinda trick! Get her!!!"

            They surged for the stairs and she turned tail and ran, stuffing Mulder's gun through the gap under the door, grabbing it again on the other side after thinning through the door. Then she raced up the stairs to the roof, resolidifying at the top, gulping in air and slamming the roof door shut behind her.

            Scully and Mulder stood at the edge of the roof, staring across the street to the nearest building--another warehouse--as she became whole again. "Why aren't you gone already?" Nicole demanded, handing Mulder his gun.

            "This fire escape is junk," Mulder said as he holstered his gun. "Look." He grabbed the railing and tugged at it. The metal creaked alarmingly, flakes of rust breaking free and sifting to the ground. "There's no way it'll bear our weight. We might survive a four-story drop, but the chances aren't good."

            Scully had her cell-phone out, a look of disgust on her face. "I called 911," she growled. "I'm on hold."

            There was a thud as the first of their pursuers threw himself against the roof door. The chair shook, but held, and Nicole bit her lip again. "Damn," Nicole murmured quietly. "I had hoped to avoid--well, never mind. We don't have a choice." She eyed Mulder. "I sure hope you haven't gained any weight."

            "What are you talking about?" Scully asked. There was a second thud from the door, which shook on its hinges.

            "We're going over there," Nicole said uneasily. "Throw your gun over, Agent Scully, and grab my hand."

            "Forget it!" Scully denied. "There's got to be another way!"

            "I don't think so," Nicole said. "Not unless you want to jump. Don't argue with me--we don't have time!"

            Scully glanced from the gap between the buildings to Nicole anxiously, and Mulder pulled his gun out and tossed it across to the next warehouse. "I'll go first, Scully," he said. "I've done this before. I know you're nervous, but there's no reason to be." He held out his hand to Nicole and took a deep breath.

            "Here goes nothing," Nicole muttered, then took her own breath. They turned, raced to the edge, and jumped.

            Scully stared. The distance was far too great for a normal person to jump, but Nicole's legs moved as though she were walking across a sidewalk instead of empty space. With no mass to drag them down, she could 'swim' through the atoms that formed the air molecules. They reached the other side, stopping on the roof, and Nicole let Mulder go. He seemed unharmed by his trip, picking up his gun as Nicole took a breath again and turned to start back for Scully.

            But before she could go thin and step off the roof, the door finally burst open behind Scully and eight men poured out onto the roof. All immediately opened fire at the light-haired girl standing on the edge of the roof. A bullet hit her shoulder and she screamed and toppled backward into Mulder's arms. Scully brought down five of the men with carefully-placed shots before the trigger clicked on an empty chamber, and they swarmed over her like ants on an apple pie, the remaining three men overwhelming her with sheer numbers and dragging her away. Mulder swore, unable to fire at them without taking the chance that he might hit his partner.

            He peered over the edge of the building, then ducked back as a bullet whistled through the air past his ear. He watched helplessly as Scully was shoved into the back seat of a car--a black Lincoln, he noted, able to see part of the license plate from his vantage point--and borne away. He bit back every foul word he knew as he turned back to see how Nicole was, then paled. The bullet had hit her while she was still solid, not 'thin', as he had thought. Blood seeped through the front and back of her shirt, right above her right breast, mixed with a thick, viscous green substance. Broken glass clinked as she shifted, grinding her teeth so loud he could hear it, trying to keep from crying out loud even though tears were streaming down her cheeks.

            "Damn!" Mulder spat, putting his gun away. He yanked his handkerchief out of his pocket. A flattened bullet fell from her shirt sleeve onto the roof, having struck bone and exited her flesh almost at a crawl. He pressed against the exit wound, which was considerably larger than the entry wound--as large as a quarter--trying to staunch the bleeding.

            Nicole hissed. "Mulder--the men--they're coming back--they're here--" She was staring over his shoulder, eyes wide, and he spun, hand going to his sidearm, only to find no one there. He frowned and turned back to her, then saw that she had lost one her contact lenses somewhere since the firefight. Her pupil was dilated to its maximum, the fat black diamonds edging out almost all of the bright green irises. Perspiration had sprung up on her brow and he frowned, holding the makeshift bandage to her wound with one hand. Glass clinked again and he opened her coat, then swore as he saw the shot had shattered the beaker she had taken from the safe. He removed the sticky shards, frowning as he saw that the thick green fluid was smeared over her shirt and the bleeding flesh beneath, seeping into the wound. He realized in abrupt horror that she had been overcome by the very drug they had come to Chicago to check out--not the weak, impure solution sold to the junkies, but the uncut, undiluted serum.

            Nicole arched, her back bending like a bow pulled too taut, and he seized her, hoping to restrain her as convulsions swept through her body. "They... _will_...come back," Nicole panted, shaking. "Have to...get out of here." Her hands tightened over his and--without warning--they were sinking down through the roof, down to the floor of the warehouse directly beneath them. Nicole resolidified and Mulder relaxed as he realized his gun had not gone off as she had feared after all. They fell the last foot and a half, crashing down onto the paper-strewn floor of a demolished office. Mulder pulled the belt of her coat out of its loops and used it to tie the handkerchief to her wound, then checked the entry wound. It was small--smaller than the tip of his littlest finger--and it had clotted and closed, now barely oozing even after their drop to the floor. Nicole went stiff again and he grabbed her uninjured shoulder and right hip, trying to brace her as spasms rippled through her. Her eyes were glazed, the diamond-shaped pupils so wide he could barely see the green iris around them, and when her body went limp again, she gazed up at him tensely.

            "Mulder--" her words were slurred, hard to understand, "--I...feel funny--" She shivered, blinked, and shook her head as if attempting to drive away demons.

            "The bullet shattered the vial in your pocket, Nicole," Mulder told her, appalled. "The drug's in your bloodstream. I'll call an ambulance--let me get my phone out--"

            "No!" Nicole begged, clutching him. "Mulder--I can hear things--sounds, voices--in my head--don't let go!"

            He peeled her hand off his shoulder to get out his cell-phone and then her voice was in his mind, frightened, weeping like a terrified child. He clutched at his temples, disoriented and floored by the unfamiliar sensation as her thoughts spilled out of the confines of her own mind and into his. A ragged shout escaped his lips; as well as _her_ 'voice', there were others flooding his mind, all the thoughts that _she_ was receiving--laughing, screaming, yelling, crying--too many to shut out. He crumpled underneath the onslaught, unable to even sort her thoughts out from the nameless, faceless others in the city around them. Her hand fumbled for his again, tightening so fiercely that he thought she would crush every bone in his hand. He gasped in shock, dizzy, straining to--since he could not shut out the relentless babble entirely--lock onto one lone nonviolent thought, one benevolent emotion. It was difficult. Down the street, a man was beating his wife; in the alley behind the warehouse, three men were mugging a fourth; not too far away, a man was forcing his daughter to--

            Mulder sheered away from the filth in disgust, feeling Nicole shudder in his arms as the minds of hundreds--perhaps thousands--of people around them crashed in on her without pause. He could feel his own tenuous grip on reality beginning to fray, and he knew that if he lost control he would never regain it.

            And then--from out of nowhere--he found the anchor he had been searching for.

            Somewhere close by, two people were making love.

            No sooner had the outside feelings touched his mind than a wave of passion surged into him, driving out all other thoughts before it. Desire claimed him more totally than hunger or thirst ever could, and he could sense that Nicole--fused with him mentally--had also been seized by the urge. Before he realized it, he had cupped her chin with one hand, pulling her against him, his lips descending upon hers fiercely. Thoughts locked together, only one small, animal whimper escaped her lips as he lowered her to the floor...


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing ever goes exactly as planned, and the chase for Brainstorm gets bloody.

 

            Nicole could not meet Mulder's eyes as he pulled his clothes on. _My God,_ she thought dazedly, _what must he think of me?_ The effect of the drug had passed, leaving both of them able to think rationally again. Numbly, she considered what she had just done.

            "After what just happened," Mulder informed her awkwardly, his voice barely above a whisper, "it's your right to press charges, if you so choose." He buttoned his shirt and pulled on his blazer, sliding his gun into his holster. "I'm sorry, Nicole, I--" He shook his head, unable to think of the words that would undo what had passed between them.

            Nicole stared at him, her wounded shoulder throbbing angrily, knowing in that instant that he was as stunned and dismayed by what he had done as she was. Their thoughts--sifted together like flour and baking soda in a cake mix--had brought them closer together than any two people had a right to be. She knew that Mulder had seen in her mind that she had desired him--just as she had seen, in his mind, the same interest--tightly leashed, but present all the same.

"I..." she answered rustily, hesitantly, finally meeting his gaze, "I won't go to the police."

            "You should," Mulder said harshly. "I behaved no better than an animal."

            "Neither did I," Nicole said with a self-deprecating laugh. "I...I've been interested in you..." she swallowed hard and tried again. "I've _wanted_ you since I first met you." She looked away again. "Just not like that." With an effort, she drew herself up, hissing as pain flared freshly in her shoulder. "This isn't important now. We have to find Agent Scully."

            " ** _I_** have to find her--but first, I'm taking you to a hospital," Mulder informed her.

            Nicole frowned unsteadily. "I want to help you," she insisted stubbornly. "I'm not hurt that badly--" She swayed on her feet, belying her words, and Mulder grabbed her by her uninjured arm, steadying her.

            "You need to see a doctor," he commanded. "Scully was right. I should never have allowed you to--" he snorted, "--tag along. It's my fault that you were shot."

            Nicole rolled her eyes, then sucked in her breath as pain spiked crazily through her shoulder again. "Jesus!" she blurted. "Let's not argue about it _now_ , OK? There's a hospital about ten blocks away. We can talk about it there."

            He nodded and, holding her arm to help her, they made their way down the garbage-choked stairs to the ground floor. Nicole waited as Mulder forced the outside door open, and they crossed the street to where the car was parked. He slid one hand into a pocket, then frowned, checking all the others.

            "Damn!" he growled. "I can't find the keys!"

            "Can you hotwire the car?" Nicole asked.

            "Not unless I can get _in_ ," he replied. For an answer, Nicole went thin, slipped into the car through the locked door, then sat down, went solid again, and unlocked the driver's-side door for him. She leaned back in her seat as he got in, closing her eyes wearily. Though she did not want to admit it, her shoulder was throbbing worse with each minute that ticked past.

            "Hold on," Mulder said, leaning forward and fiddling with the wires under the steering column. He pulled them apart and reconnected them carefully, and the car roared to life. He straightened and pulled away from the curb. "We're on our way."

            Nicole nodded weakly and--the world shimmering around her--passed out.

* * *

 

            Nicole stepped out of the emergency room cubicle, her shoulder cleaned and bandaged. In addition, she had received a transfusion to replace the blood she had lost; she glanced down in distaste at the stiff, tacky sweater she wore, the inside of her left elbow aching from the transfusion needle. The medication the doctor had insisted she take was already beginning to work, lessening the throbbing of her wound but mixing with the last traces of Brainstorm in her system to make her giddy, detached, and light-headed. She grimaced and glanced around for Mulder, but he was nowhere to be seen.

            The nurse at the admissions desk looked up as Nicole marched over. "Can I help you?" she asked. _Not hard to remember what I'm in for_ , Nicole thought, amused, since I came here with a bullet wound, no insurance and no ID, and paid in cash. _She probably thinks I'm a drug dealer._

            "Yes, uh...the man who brought me in--where did he go?"

            "He left right after the doctor went in to work on your wound," the nurse answered. "He left you a note, though." She plucked a folded square of paper off the counter and handed it to Nicole, who thanked her and turned away, her lips compressed into a thin line. She unfolded the paper, her hands shaking, afraid because she had a good idea of what she was about to read.

           _Nicole--I've gone after Scully. You GO HOME--wherever that may be. I can't risk you getting hurt again._

_Good luck,_

_Fox Mulder_

 

            "Good luck?" Nicole read aloud incredulously. " **GOOD LUCK**?!? That no-good, sneaky, sonova--" she bit the words off before they could betray how discouraged she was, how tired, how _afraid_. She knew, deep down, that she wanted to do nothing more than what he had ordered her to--to go home.

            _But I'll never be able to forgive myself if I did and something happened to either of them,_ she admitted. Though she was tired, hurt, and angry that he had left her, she knew that she was partly to blame for Scully's capture. _If I hadn't lured them out here to investigate the drug, none of this would have happened. Of course, that bastard Wallace would be hooking kids on Brainstorm left and right, and raking in the money unobstructed, but--_ She shivered as phantoms of Mulder's thoughts, imprinted indelibly in her mind, surfaced. _So if I want to help, instead of turning tail and running like a coward, I have to find Mulder. But how?_ She knew, from the thoughts she had shared with him, how he would try to find the people who had taken his partner. He had seen part of the license plate number of the car that had carried her away; it was in the memories they had shared. So he would go to the Department of Motor Vehicles and try to trace the place. Failing that, he would trace the plate by computer or by checking with the police. _None of which does me any good,_ she thought disconsolately. _What I know about computers could be scribbled down on a napkin and have enough room left over to write my memoirs. I'm no hacker._

            She gnawed on her lower lip and headed for the emergency room doors, only to stop as the nurse called out. "Hey, don't go anywhere just yet!" Nicole turned to look at the woman, who was fixing her with a fierce stare. "The police are on their way to question you about how you got shot. Standard procedure for all gunshot wounds. Just take a seat over there." She gestured toward a row of chairs.

            "Can I at least use the restroom?" Nicole asked wearily.

            The woman nodded and Nicole headed for the door to the ladies' room; as soon as she was through it, she turned in the direction of the nearest exterior wall, went thin, and slipped through the building's walls like a ghost.

            She emerged out onto the street and solidified with a gasp for air; the drugs in her system and lack of oxygen were making her dizzy, and she leaned back against the wall until the world stopped spinning around her. Fat drops of rain began to plummet from the sky, bursting as they hit the ground, and she crossed the street to stand in the shelter of a bus stop's booth. Her body was whispering to her hungrily, begging in a whining tone for something it had tasted and now wanted more of. It took her a moment to realize that she was feeling pangs of need for the drug. _Of course,_ she reflected, feeling stupid, I _made a point of telling Mulder how addictive Brainstorm is and now--_ she shuddered -- _now I'm hooked._ Despairingly, she turned and stalked out into the rain, letting it soak her face and hair, trudging steadily down the street. Little islands of memory--Mulder's, not her own--kept rising and sinking in her mind, and she tried to separate her own thoughts from his. _Just how much have I picked up from him, anyway?_ she asked herself. She stopped and began to tally the foreign thoughts and memories that flashed before her eyes--some from a long time back, indeed--and reeled as she realized, after a few minutes, that almost his entire life was 'copied' within her brain. The recollections of past cases he had investigated were the most vivid, and she managed a faint smile as she realized that her case was one of the _least_ strange that he had investigated. _He **DID** solve it--well, more or less, _ she consoled herself. For better or worse, she knew he would be a part of her now, always with her. She felt as though she could almost reach out with her eyes closed and touch him--

            Nicole faltered as she saw a man leaning against the side of a store. The windows of the shop were barred, and very little light shone through them, but though it was dark and she could not _see_ much, there was nothing to prevent her from hearing what he was saying.

            "Got the 'storm, feel it," he chanted to the people walking past him. "Got the new stuff, feel the lightning, ride the thunder, get the 'storm." A boy--barely 14, she guessed--stopped in front of the man. Money changed hands and then the pusher handed him a vial of light green fluid. She watched without shock, her only surprise that Wallace had started to sell the drug publicly so soon.

            Need rose up within her, screaming insistently for her to go, to buy what the pusher was selling, to pour it into her veins. She trembled as hunger wracked her flesh, the small vials that clinked in his hand called to her, whispering promises of euphoria and dreams.

            _And the power_ , the hunger breathed. _Don't forget the power_. She balled her hands into fists, clenching them so tightly her nails bit into her palms. No, she couldn't forget the power, or the moment that her mind and Mulder's had touched, meshed, fused together. Neither could she forget the terrifying rush of confusion and shock as the thoughts of every other sentient mind in a radius of God-only-knew-how-wide had come crashing into her own brain. _Why in Hell would I want to go through that again?_ she asked herself. _No, I've got to quit cold turkey, get off this stuff. She_ bit her lip and started to turn away--

            _What if you could find Mulder?_ the hunger asked slyly. She froze in mid-step. _You know him now as well as you know yourself. With the power, it would be easy to reach out, seek his mind out, and find him._ She dug her nails more deeply into her palms, trying to drown out the insidious voice, but she could deny the truth of the words it had spoken. She _did_ know Mulder now, possibly better than anyone else on the face of the Earth, and if she took the drug again, gaining the telepathic abilities it induced, she stood a good chance of being able to locate him psionically-- _that is, if I don't go crazy first._

            She gulped nervously and turned back toward the drug dealer, reaching into her coat pocket for her wallet. She still had more than half the money she had stolen from Wallace in the warehouse; the round-trip airfare to D.C. and her emergency room fees had hardly put a dent in it.

            Nicole approached the dealer with trepidation. The man eyed her with interest, glancing up and down at the slim figure under the coat, noting the blood on her sweater without a flicker of surprise. "Uh...how much?" Nicole asked hoarsely, cringing at the thought of what her father would have said if he could have seen her at that moment.

            "Ten bucks a pop, baby," the man replied with a leer. "Or you could pay for it in trade, if you're low on green." He winked and Nicole fumbled with her money.

            "No, I've...I've got cash," she said hesitantly. Her face flamed. "How much is safe?"

            "It's all safe, sweetcheeks," the man purred. "Soarin' on the 'storm's as safe as drivin' a Volvo."

            "No!" Nicole demanded, more fiercely. She stepped close to the pusher with a scowl. "Look, I know you cut the stuff. How much can I take without having to worry about an O.D.? I've had the pure stuff and I need--I need--" She knew she couldn't explain her need to him, but he understood anyway.

            "Calm down, sugar. 'Storm's pretty safe, but I wouldn't take more'n five hits at once, if I was you." He studied the blood on her sweater again. "'Less'n that red belonged to someone else, you look like you 'bout done for the night."

            She counted fifty dollars out and shoved it at him. He grinned and pocketed the money, then handed her five of the little glass vials. "You need a kit, honeybuns?"

            Nicole nodded wordlessly and the pusher reached into his other coat pocket and pulled out a hypodermic syringe, still wrapped in sterile plastic. "There you go. Don't want my customers gettin' AIDS. Can't come back for more if you dead, girl." He handed her the syringe and she whirled, marching away as fast as she dared. The world was starting to go runny around her, like chalk drawings on the sidewalk in the rain. She could feel the man's eyes on her and heard him laugh as she darted to the curb and lifted her hand. A cab glided over and stopped in front of her and she jumped in, tugging the door shut.

            "Wet out, huh?" the driver commented, his eyes whisking quickly over her bedraggled appearance. She stuffed the vials and syringe into her coat pocket and gave him her address, then sank back against the seat, closing her eyes with a sigh.

            _One way or another,_ she prayed, _the night'll soon be over._

* * *

 

            Mulder jotted the addresses down on a piece of paper and shut the computer off swiftly. He frowned as he yanked on his coat and strode for the door. The license plate numbers he had managed to see--four digits out of six--had yielded more combinations than he had thought possible, but he had narrowed the field down to only five who had criminal records for possession of narcotics or proscribed substances with the intent to sell. Of those five, three were currently in prison, whittling down his list of targets even further. The computer at the F.B.I. branch office here had linkups with the computers at both the D.M.V. and police headquarters, and it had been relatively easy to find what he was looking for.

            He hurried toward the elevator, a new car waiting for him in the building's basement garage. As the elevator doors closed, he had one brief moment to remember another underground garage and the man who had waited there for him, five weeks ago. Then he shook his head in dismissal. Nicole had not been far from his thoughts since he had left her at the hospital, but he knew he could not have taken her along with him any longer. _She's lucky she wasn't killed,_ he thought darkly. _And so am I._ He sighed. Scully had been abducted once before, by a pair of bank robbers--one of whom had been wearing the body of a Bureau agent who was also one of Scully's former lovers. _Then_ , he mused, _I was able to bring in a back-up to help find her. This time, if I want Nicole to stay free--as I promised--I don't dare_. He shook his head. The choice was neither a pleasant nor easy one to make.

            Tension rippled through his body like electricity through high-voltage wires as he climbed behind the wheel of the car, started it up, and pulled out of the garage.

* * *

 

            "So the F.B.I. is interested in the candy I've been making, hmmm?" Wallace asked smoothly. He glanced down at Scully, tied to a chair, then looked at her Bureau ID again. "Special Agent Dana Scully." The words rolled off his tongue obscenely. "And what is it about you that makes you special, eh, Agent Scully?" He knelt next to her chair with a grin. "No, don't tell me, let me guess. I bet I know." He tossed the ID aside, then put one hand on Scully's leg, sliding it up to her knee and giving her thigh a brief squeeze. Scully, gagged, glared daggers at him, but had been tied expertly and could neither squirm away nor kick him.

            "Well, Agent Scully," Wallace decided, "since we both know that your friends will be looking for you, we'll just hold off on the party until they arrive. After all, that little blonde girl who we caught spying on us the other night was rather cute, too, and I'm sure your partner will want to be present for the festivities." He rose to his feet and turned to one of the heavily-muscled guards who stood silently at the door. "Keep an eye on her." The man nodded and Wallace beamed down at Scully. "But don't worry; as soon as everyone's here, I promise that you and I will have all the time in the world together."

            Scully grimaced, a bad taste at the back of her mouth as he winked at her, then turned and marched out of the room, leaving her alone with her guard.

* * *

 

            Nicole settled onto the floor in front of her bed, then set the vials and the syringe down before rolling up her left sleeve. She took a deep breath, nervous, then tore the plastic wrapping off the sterile syringe and put it together quickly. When it was in one piece, she picked up the shoelace she had pulled out of one of her old shoes and tied it around her upper arm as tightly as she could. The vein on the inside of her elbow jumped up in clear relief and she glanced down at the paring knife she had remembered to get out to cut the shoelace. _No rubber tubing to do this with,_ she mused. Her hands trembled and she had to stop a moment before piercing the rubber cap of the first vial with the needle. She drained the vial, then the second and third, the fourth, and most of the fifth, expelling a trio of tiny air bubbles. Then, sweat dampening the underarms of her shirt, she made a fist with her left hand and, picking up the syringe, plunged the needle into her vein.

            Nicole hissed in pain as she pushed the plunger home. The drug invaded her veins with cold ease, and she bit her lip at the sting of the needle, setting the empty syringe down and picking the knife up. The drug was stalled at mid-arm by the shoelace tied around her upper arm and she slid the blade of the knife under the lace and cut it with one jerk.

            The 'storm crashed into her brain with a kiss, the thunder of outside voices slamming into her mind with the speed of lightning. She had a second's space to gasp and then the tsunami of mental babble rolled over her, crushing her flat in an instant.

            **_MULDER_**!!! she had time to think, her mind reaching out into the aether for the only person in the world she knew as well as herself.

            And then the darkness claimed her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Showdown.

            As soon as Mulder saw the Lincoln parked in front of the modest one-story ranch house, he knew he had found the place. The sixth sense that told him when he was on the right track on a case was buzzing now, every nerve vibrating like a violin string that had been tuned too tight.

            About half the lights in the house were on; that, and the car parked in front, told him that someone was very likely home. He pulled his gun out of its holster, checked to make sure it was fully loaded, and--

            "Don't tell me you were going to start without me?" whispered a soft voice in his ear.

            Mulder managed not to yelp as he whirled. Nicole stood there, her eyes black pits in the darkness. He realized that her bizarre pupils were fully dilated and grabbed her wrist angrily. "You're drugged!" he accused.

            "I believe the proper term is _high_ but yes, you're right," she admitted. He could feel her mind whisking feather-light over his own, but there was none of the frenzied, traumatic mingling of thoughts that there had been the first time, and--amazed--he realized she had gained some measure of control. "It was the only way I could find you."

            "You did this to find _me_?" he blurted in stunned disbelief.

            "Hush!" she murmured. "Yes! I'm the one who brought you here. I was in on this from the beginning, and I think I've earned the right to see it end." She gave him a wry grin. "Besides, couldn't you use my help? I want to get Scully out of there in one piece, too."

            Mulder glowered at her, but finally--honesty getting the better of him--nodded. "I can't believe you took that stuff willingly, after what you--we--went through before."

            She shrugged. "It was necessary, Mulder. You didn't exactly leave a forwarding address. I'm beginning to learn how to deal with this." She turned to stare at the house. "Scully is in there."

            "I guessed," he said with a frown.

            "I _know_ ," Nicole told him. She tapped one temple meaningfully. "Were you planning to just rush in with your gun drawn and hope no one shot you--or her?"

            "That's about it, more or less," Mulder confessed. "Since I have no back-up."

            "That's suicidal! You don't know how many men he has in there! Look, I can go in and grab her, thin the both of us, and get her out while you cover me."

            Mulder rubbed his eyes wearily. It had been, he reflected, about seventeen hours since he had gotten even a moment's rest, or had anything to eat. That could be the only explanation for why Nicole's idea actually sounded like it might work. _God help me_ , he thought, _I must be insane. She's already been hurt once on this case._

            "Mulder," Nicole sighed. "Let me do this. It's my fault she was captured in the first place. She got caught because I wasn't fast enough on the rooftop."

            "That's not true," Mulder insisted. "She got caught because she was reluctant to cross with you--and because there were just too many men to fight off. Don't blame yourself." He frowned. "Okay. This has got to be the stupidest thing I've ever done since I started with the Bureau, but we'll try your idea, since it poses marginally less risk than mine."

            "All right. I'm going to go in from underground--" Nicole pointed, "--and surface in their basement. That way I can catch my breath before going up to the ground floor, where I sense Scully is being held. The drug is wearing off--it's much weaker in its street form than the stuff that was in the beaker in my pocket that the bullet broke. I'm still high-psi enough to pinpoint where she is, though...I think."

            "You think?"

            Nicole glared at him sharply. "Calm down, Mulder. I'll go in, come up underneath her, solidify just my hands so I can grab her by her ankles, and yank her down with me. We can take a split-second in the basement so she can get a decent breath, and then down through the ground and out to you. Give me ten minutes and have the car running when I get out. You can come back and arrest them later."

            Mulder eyed her dubiously. "You're very good at giving orders," he snorted at last. "Ever think of joining the Marines?"

            She grinned. "Nah, I'm not much of a joiner. But if I _was_ going to sign up anywhere--: she blew him a kiss and began to sink into the ground, "--it'd be with you guys. Lots more fun." He caught one last glimpse of her ironic smirk before she vanished into the earth.

            "Why does this seem like a comic book all of a sudden?" he muttered under his breath. He shook his head at the thought. _Still_ , he admitted wistfully, _she'd look **great** in tight spandex..._

            Nicole frowned, concentrating on wading through the sludgy soil. She was about twenty feet from the house--not a great distance--but having to move through such thickly-packed soil slowed her down. The more dense the substance through which she moved, she had found, the longer it took to travel through it. Air was the easiest, and the quickest; solid stone or steel were the toughest, though cement and concrete were no picnic either. Most walls--made of plaster and lathe--were simple enough, and even wood and water were relatively easy.

            She could see, less than a foot away, the concrete foundation of the house. She slogged through the soil and the tips of her fingers ghosted through the concrete into open air. _Too bad I'm not a snail, with eyes on long stalks_ , she mused wryly, _it'd be a lot safer if I could see what's on the other side of these walls I've been going through._

            Her head emerged from the wall and she blinked as she saw that the basement of the house had been set up as Wallace's lab. Test tubes, flasks, piping, and an autoclave covered the top of a lab table a few feet away. _Well, of course_ , she thought as she pulled her feet free of the wall and solidified, _he has to make 'storm **somewhere**._

            There was a small sound behind her and Nicole began to turn. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a man in jeans and a red sweater, his arm already swinging down.

            Then the tire iron he held crashed onto her head and she fell, unconscious.

* * *

           Mulder glanced down at his watch. Ten minutes, and no sign of Nicole. He scowled. _One minute more and I go in_ , he thought. There had been neither screams nor shots, but he could not shake the uneasy feeling that something was wrong. A pain had sprung up at the back of his head that he could not shake, and he wondered curiously if the drug that Nicole had been exposed to--twice--would have any lasting aftereffects.

            The porch light of Wallace's house went on and the door creaked open. Mulder ducked down into the bushes as the man glanced around.

            "All right, Mr. Agent," Wallace called out clearly. "I know you're out there somewhere. We have both your ladyfriends now, and if you don't come on in now, my men and I are going to have a little party with them." He paused. "They're very pretty, and there are about ten men in here who would love to have some fun with them, myself included." He chuckled.

            Mulder sat frozen, wondering what part of Nicole's plan had gone so horribly wrong. Had the drug worn off--or worse, caused the hallucinations she had spoken of? He could imagine her laying on the floor, curled into a little ball, as Wallace and his men seized her.

            Then, since he had no other choice, he rose and walked stiffly toward the house.

* * *

 

            Her arms were on fire. Nicole groaned, wondering if it was them or her head which hurt worse. Then the bullet wound in her shoulder flared and she agreed with it that her head didn't hurt half as badly as her arms did.

            She opened her eyes, but the world came into focus around her only blurrily. Scully sat tied to a chair not ten feet away, her eyes wide with alarm. Standing near the door were four of Wallace's guards, two of whom Nicole recognized from the night at the warehouse when she had stolen the pusher's briefcase. Nicole stepped forward, only to be jerked back by an excruciating blaze of agony all up and down her back and shoulders. She looked up and gaped; her hands were cuffed together, the short chain hooked over a bracket on the wall similar to the type used to hang plants from.

            "Oh, they've _got_ to be kidding," she muttered sarcastically. She looked up as the front door opened and Mulder came in, hands up, Wallace behind him holding Mulder's gun. Mulder's eyes went wide as he saw her hanging from the wall, and Nicole frowned. _Enough of this!_ She willed herself thin and stepped forward--

            --and was jerked back by her still-solid flesh, wrists and all, manacled by the handcuffs.

            "No," she whispered. Wallace glanced over at her and smiled.

            "Have a seat, Mr.--" he glanced at the ID he had taken from Mulder, "--sorry, _Agent_ Mulder." One of the guards shoved Mulder into a chair, his gun pointed at Mulder's face. Wallace tossed Mulder's gun down onto an end table as the red-sweatered man who had knocked Nicole out came up the basement stairs. Wallace frowned as he saw him. "What _now_ , Jefferson?"

            "Is this going to take long?" the man in the sweater asked. "You _know_ I can't work when I'm tense, and seeing ghosts come through the walls of my lab has _definitely_ made me tense." He glowered at Nicole.

            Wallace sighed. "No, Jefferson, this shouldn't take long at all. I'm going to kill these idiots and then Gardner and Baxter are going to dump their bodies in the lake. Any more questions?"

            Jefferson sniffed contemptuously. "No, that's all," he grumbled, and turned and went back downstairs.

            Wallace rolled his eyes and looked down at Mulder. "It's so hard to get good help these days," he commented. "But then, you know that, right?" There was a twinkle in his eyes as he glanced from Mulder to Nicole. "And Jefferson is the one who created Brainstorm; I'm merely his humble marketing manager, so I suppose he must be allowed his little displays of temperament." Wallace grinned and walked over to where Nicole hung from the bracket. "Which brings me to my next question, young lady. Just how is it that you do that voodoo that you do so well?" He chuckled at his own wit. "I'm really very interested in that little trick you can do. Is it a magician's illusion, like the ones that David Copperfield does?" Nicole stared at him defiantly, lips pressed tightly shut. "Well?" He reached out and cupped her chin with one hand, fingers tightening around the sides of her face, grinding the flesh of her cheeks onto the bone underneath. A faint mewl escaped her lips, but no other sound; her eyes blazed with fury as she stared up at him, and he released her, a thoughtful look on his face. "Gardner, a light, please," he said distantly, holding one hand out.

            "Leave her alone!" Mulder shouted. Wallace ignored him and the guard lit a cigarette, then handed it over to his employer. Wallace hooked one hand into the top of Nicole's shirt and ripped it downward, revealing her blood-smeared bra and the bandages that had been swathed over her bullet wound. His eyes lit up like road flares and he balanced the cigarette in one hand, letting the torn shirt fall aside, then used his other hand to pick away at the bandages.

            "Tell him, Nicole!" Mulder urged. She glared at him and then spat in the pusher's face. Her saliva ran down his face and he licked it off with a resigned, rueful grin.

            "Be that way, then," he sighed, and ground the lit tip of the cigarette into the stitched-up wound.

            Nicole screamed, her whole body going taut with agony as the smoldering tobacco melted the synthetic thread holding the wound shut. Mulder bolted out of the chair he had been shoved into, but the man watching him lifted the gun menacingly and he collapsed back into it, agony etched into his face in deep slashes. The scent of burning flesh filled the air and the steel cuffs around her wrists dug into her skin. She slumped limply in the cuffs as an insane growl escaped Mulder's lips. Wallace withdrew the cigarette and reached for her bra, a sweet smile curving his lips.

            "Please tell me you feel like talking now," he murmured. "I really hate to have to do this."

            "Go...fuck yourself," she rasped, hatred glittering in her eyes.

            "If I have to ask again, the next time the cig goes on one of your nipples," Wallace warned gently. "Or one of the lady agent's eyes."

            "Nicole, for Christ's sake--!" Mulder moaned.

            Nicole paled, then wilted. "It's a trick," she muttered hoarsely, imagining the damage Wallace could wreak if he ever found a way to go thin, as she could. "It's just an illusion. 'S done with lasers."

            "Ah, well," he murmured, shrugging. "Pity. It would have been handy to go through walls like that." He dropped the cigarette and scuffed it out with the heel of his shoe. "No real harm done, right?" He patted her cheek fondly. "I suppose I'll simply have to do the best with the assets I've got. A lot can be accomplished, if you have enough money, guns, and drugs."

            Nicole closed her eyes in dread. Her arms, wrists, and shoulder were all screaming at her, but she tried to shut them out. Worse, her head ached where Jefferson had hit her with the tire iron, and she considered the possibility that the blow she had taken was the cause of her inability to go thin. _Probably gave me a damned concussion_ , she thought resentfully. _And now we're all going to die._

            "Well, I'm sorry about this, but you're in the way and I can't have you messing up a business that's going to make me very, very wealthy," Wallace said regretfully. He drew his own gun and cocked it, then turned toward Scully.

            "NO!!!" Nicole screamed, surging forward so hard that the cuffs raked bloody furrows across her wrists. She felt blood spurt from the wound in her shoulder as her muscles strained. Simultaneously, she felt her mind **_thrust_** outward oddly, spearing into the thoughts of Wallace and his men--which she could still read, though very faintly--like a lance. She felt something pop in her nose and fluid began to dribble from her nostrils; her tongue flicked out without thought and she tasted blood. Wallace grunted, his eyes going wide, and went rigid, as did the four guards by the door. Mulder, not knowing what had happened but willing to take advantage of the distraction, threw himself forward and grabbed his gun off the table, whirling to cover Wallace and the guards.

            Nicole sagged in the cuffs, the movement waking fresh flame in her shoulders, and Wallace came out of his daze. "Drop the gun," Mulder spat vehemently, his eyes filled with fury. Wallace glared at him, but the Smith & Wesson thudded to the floor. "You, too," Mulder growled at the guards. They looked to Wallace first, but he scowled and nodded. They tossed their guns down and Mulder nodded grimly. "Now untie Scully," he commanded.

            One of the guards went to where Scully sat and pulled the gag out of her mouth. Scully took a deep breath and glanced up at Mulder uneasily as the guard began to undo the ropes that bound her. "It's good to see you again, Mulder," she said.

            "Are you okay, Scully?" he asked, concerned.

            "Yeah, I'm fine," she said, then glanced over at Nicole. "Why haven't you let yourself out of those cuffs, Ms. Alexander?"

            "I can't," Nicole admitted wanly as the last of the ropes fell away from Scully's hands and feet. "I was hit on the head when they captured me and now I can't do it. If there's swelling on the brain--a concussion--then I don't know when the ability will return, if ever."

            Mulder stared at her in shock. "Uncuff her," Scully ordered the guard as she stood up, rubbing her wrists. The guard nodded sullenly and picked up the key from the table, trudging over to Nicole. He reached up and she moaned in relief as the cuffs opened; she let her arms fall limply to her sides, not wanting to move.

            "I'm calling for back-up," Scully said to Mulder, going to the phone and punching in the number for Chicago's regional office.

            Mulder nodded and waved his gun at Wallace and the guards. "Have a seat," he instructed them. They sank into vacant chairs and, never taking the gun from them, he stalked to Nicole's side. "Are you all right?"

            "I take it back," she choked hoarsely. "This _isn't_ fun and I wouldn't want your job." Very carefully, she took a step backward and sat down. "I'll be fine...so long as I don't go rock-climbing." He gazed at her in concern, and she brushed her hair back out of her eyes with her uninjured arm. "As for the other--" she winced, "--concussions are tricky. When the swelling goes down, then my...talent...may come back. If it doesn't, then I'll just have to learn to live without it. Everyone else seems to get along fine without being able to walk through walls. I'm flexible; I'll manage." She smiled at him weakly and stood, then reached up with her unwounded arm, caressing his cheek. "I'm going to leave before the cavalry gets here, Mulder. If I'm here when they arrive, I'll end up in custody--with no way to escape this time. Maybe I'll see you again some time." She stood up on tiptoes and pressed a kiss against his lips, pouring into it all the passion she felt for him. _What happened when I was shot was a mistake_ , she thought fleetingly, _but now I have the chance to let him know that I **do** care for him and...oh, God!_ Fire erupted in her veins, rushing through her limbs to turn them to water, and she slid her good hand up into his short, dark hair, feeling the silky strands tickle her palm. In spite of himself, Mulder was drawn into the kiss, his arms coming around Nicole, his tongue darting out to trace her lower lip.

            Scully cleared her throat, red-faced. "Uh...Mulder?" she called hesitantly. "Back to work, OK?" She had retrieved her own gun and was covering Wallace and the guards; Mulder's aim had wandered to the floor.

            Nicole and Mulder started, pulling away from each other reluctantly. Mulder stared at Nicole for a moment, wanting to reach out and pull her back into the circle of his arms. Then Nicole shook herself.

            "Goodbye," she murmured, turning to the front door and treading doggedly out into the night.

            "You're going to let her go?" Scully asked curiously.

            "She hasn't committed any crimes, Scully," Mulder said heavily. "I have no reason to arrest her."

            Scully gazed at Mulder for a moment before answering. "That wasn't what I meant," she said, so softly that he had to strain to hear her over the approaching sirens. "Not at all."

            Mulder did not answer, but only stared out into the darkness.

 


End file.
